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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394737">Wine Drunk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnMyShore/pseuds/OnMyShore'>OnMyShore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Coda, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s06e03 The Job Interview, I Can't Help It If These Boys Are Chatty, M/M, Tenderness, very mild angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:20:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnMyShore/pseuds/OnMyShore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I’m on my way now. Do you think you and Stevie can hold off on killing each other until I get there?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>There’s the sound of muffled voices, and then David comes back and says, “No promises,” before unceremoniously disconnecting the call.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>David needs Patrick to come and get him from Stevie's.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>321</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wine Drunk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I think I’m drunk,” David says when Patrick answers the phone. He’s not quite slurring his speech, but the words are soft around the edges, one bleeding into the next. Patrick levers himself up, pushing against the arm of the couch where he’d been trying not to doze off in front of the Blue Jays game.</p><p>“You think?” he says, and David makes a sound that’s somewhere between a hum and a groan, reverberating over the proverbial phone line.</p><p>“I am probably drunk,” he amends. “Stevie gave me too much of her terrible wine and now she wants me out of her apartment.”</p><p>“Sounds like you should probably get out of her apartment then.” Patrick’s already looking for his keys; there’s a bowl on the shelf near the door where he usually keeps them, but tonight they’re not there. He frowns slightly, going back to the couch to check between the cushions where he’d been lounging.</p><p>“Patrick.” David draws his name out into a whine, the way he only does when he’s on the wrong side of intoxicated. “I don’t think I can drive. And even if I could, my car is back at the motel. And Stevie won’t let me take hers, because I probably shouldn’t be driving it.”</p><p>“And because it’s my fucking car,” Stevie says in the background, sounding like she’s a few glasses deep herself. Time is of the essence; David and Stevie getting stoned together is fine, but adding alcohol into the mix is akin to setting off a Roman candle in the living room - you may get a good time, but there’s also a significant chance of burning down the house. Spinning back to the kitchen, Patrick spots a lopsided pile of mail on the kitchen table where he’d dropped it earlier in the evening. The keys are nestled snugly underneath a couple of bills and a flyer full of coupons he’s probably never going to use.</p><p>“Sounds like you’re in a real predicament,” Patrick says, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Good thing it’s a nice night, the walk home shouldn’t be too bad.”</p><p>“Patrick.”</p><p>“Just have to keep an eye out for the wildlife, that’s all. Did you know coyotes are nocturnal?”</p><p>“<em>Patrick.” </em></p><p>“I’m kidding, there probably aren’t coyotes out here.”</p><p>“Patrick!” There’s a note of actual distress in David’s voice, and Patrick laughs softly, easing off the teasing.</p><p>“Relax David, I’m on my way now. Do you think you and Stevie can hold off on killing each other until I get there?”</p><p>There’s the sound of muffled voices, and then David comes back and says, “No promises,” before unceremoniously disconnecting the call.</p><p>The drive to Stevie’s is short (Schitt’s Creek is a small town in every sense of the word), but Patrick barely gets two knocks on the door before Stevie is flinging it open and hustling David into the hallway. “You take him, I don’t want him anymore.”</p><p>“Deal,” Patrick says, at the same time that David says, “That’s rude,” but then he actually gets a good look at his fiance. “What are you wearing?”</p><p>“Your clothes.”</p><p>“I can see that.”</p><p>“Then why did you ask?” He pauses. “The pants are too short.”</p><p>The pants are indeed too short, stopping too far above his ankle to be considered anything other than unbearably dorky. Patrick is honestly surprised he went out in public like that. “Maybe your legs are too long.”</p><p>“That’s not what you said last night.”</p><p>Patrick rolls his eyes. They hadn’t had sex last night, and even if they had, he’s pretty sure he’s never commented on the length of David’s legs before. Though maybe he should.</p><p>While he’s considering this, David leans in for a kiss, and Patrick leans back, bracing David with a hand on his chest to keep him from overbalancing. David had said he and Stevie had been drinking wine, but his breath smells like rubbing alcohol. And besides that, Stevie is still standing in the doorway, glaring at them both, because David’s sins have apparently transferred themselves onto him as well.</p><p>Speaking of Stevie, she makes a disgusted noise and says, “I hate you both and I’m going to bed.” Pointing a wobbly finger at David, she adds, “Don’t come back,” before slamming the door shut.</p><p>“I have my own bed!” David yells at the door, and Stevie yells “Gross!” from the other side. David makes a face before looking back at Patrick. “Hi.”</p><p>“Hi.” Patrick is trying very hard to keep the amusement out of his voice, even as he’s trying to pull David away before one of Stevie’s neighbors decides to come out and really turn this into a party. “Seems like you had quite a day.”</p><p>“It was the worst,” David groans, flopping an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and leaning most of his body weight onto him, making it difficult to steer down the hallway.</p><p>“Why?” One foot in front of the other, slow and steady because otherwise there’s a solid chance David will lean too far forward and tumble face-first down the stairwell.</p><p>“I went with Stevie on her job interview.”</p><p>“You mentioned that earlier, which I guess explains the clothes?” </p><p>“You dress for the job you want,” David tells him, and Patrick was wrong, it doesn’t really explain anything at all.</p><p>“I didn’t realize you were looking for an alternate place of employment. Am I not paying you enough?"</p><p>“I’m paying you, and anyway, that’s beside the point.”</p><p>“Which is?” Patrick pushes the door open and guides them out; the air has gotten cooler, not enough to be uncomfortable but it raises goosebumps on the back of his neck all the same. Bereft of his collection of knits, David crosses his arms against his chest like he’s braving a walk across the Arctic plains.</p><p>“What is?”</p><p>“The point.”</p><p>“The point!” David throws his arms out to the side, apparently forgetting that he’s supposed to be cold. “The point is, no, I don’t want to go and work for some janky airline company, <em> obviously</em>. But if I wanted to, I should be able to, right?”</p><p><br/>“But you don’t want to,” Patrick says, opening the passenger door and guiding David down into the seat.</p><p>“<em>No</em>. But if I did, I couldn’t, because Carol doesn’t think I’m qualified, <em> apparently</em>.”</p><p>“Well, what does Carol know?”</p><p>David makes a noise of agreement as Patrick slides into his own seat, pulling the door shut and starting the car. “Maybe you should ask Stevie, because she apparently nailed it. She’s going to be a <em> wonderful </em> flight attendant, while I sit in the hallway and eat stolen peanuts and wait for Carol to finish telling her how fucking great at flight attending she’s going to be.”</p><p>“Ah.” They’ve arrived at the heart of the problem, the reason for the wine-soaked animosity Patrick had walked into this evening. “Sounds like it went well for Stevie, then?”</p><p>“I guess,” David says, and it’s amazing how petulant just those two words can sound. It’s a gift to the Rose family and a curse to everyone around them.</p><p>“That’s good, though, isn’t it?” Patrick glances over to where David has folded himself into the seat so he can pout out the window. “This was Stevie’s job interview, after all.”</p><p>David doesn’t say anything, but he’s thinking so loudly that Patrick swears he can hear it. Thinking a little bit of prompting is in order, Patrick adds, “If you weren’t there for moral support, why did you go?”</p><p>“I <em> was </em>there for moral support, I’m very supportive,” David snaps. Patrick raises his eyebrows, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. After a second, David tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. “And if I wanted to show that I could get a job just as easily as she could, that’s just a side...thing.”</p><p>“So what you’re saying is that you went with Stevie to her interview just so you could show her up?”</p><p>“It wasn’t just to show her up!” David protests. “I already told you I was there for moral support. <em> She </em> asked for <em>my </em>help.”</p><p>“And instead, you turned it into a competition?”</p><p>David huffs and glares at him. “I can do both.”</p><p>“I know you can.” Patrick comes to a stop in front of his building, putting the car in park. “I’m just wondering if you should.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Well, I know you two have this thing where you always have to one-up each other, and it’s very entertaining, don’t get me wrong, but maybe a job interview isn’t necessarily the right place for it?”</p><p>“Well, the good news is that if she’s mad at me she can just hop on a plane and leave me behind.”</p><p>“David.” Patrick puts a hand on his knee. “Nobody is leaving you behind. It’s just a job.”</p><p>“I know! I know it’s just a job, and it’s - it’s fine, I’m <em> fine</em>, this isn’t, like, a <em> thing</em>.”</p><p>Patrick has gotten very good over the past two years at telling whether or not something is going to be a <em> thing</em>, and this is definitely a <em> thing</em>. He leaves his hand on David’s knee, thumb stroking over the denim. There’s more, and he’s prepared to wait it out. They can stay in the car all night if they have to, it wouldn’t be the first time.</p><p>David has his elbow braced against the door to prop his chin up against his fist. His mouth is twisted to one side, but it’s in a grimace rather than a smile. As Patrick is starting to wonder if maybe he should give him another verbal nudge, he starts to speak again.</p><p>“So maybe I don’t like the idea of not having her around. She was basically my only friend until I met you? What if I have something I have to tell her but I can’t because she’s halfway to fucking Miami? Who am I supposed to talk to about the wedding planning?”</p><p>“Me?” Patrick suggests with a little <em> just think about it </em>shrug.</p><p>“<em>Obviously</em>. But who else? Stevie was supposed to be there and be a part of it, and instead she wants to leave, and I hate it. And now she’s mad at me, and I’m wine drunk, and that’s the <em> worst </em>kind of drunk because it always turns into sad drunk and I hate being sad drunk, and I hate people being mad at me, especially when they’re my best friend.”</p><p>“I know you do,” Patrick says. He moves his hand from David’s knee to his shoulder, kneading the muscle there gently until David finally turns to look at him, bleary-eyed and frowning. “That’s why tomorrow, you’re going to go back to the motel, and you’re going to tell her you’re sorry.” David nods solemnly. “For tonight, though, we’re going to go upstairs, and you’re going to change out of my clothes and have a glass of water, and then we’re going to bed so you can sleep off wine drunk before it turns into sad drunk.”</p><p>“Might be a little late for that,” David admits, but the lines around his eyes have started to soften.</p><p>David allows Patrick to pull him out of the car, and they make it back to the apartment mostly without incident, though the stairs prove yet again to be a challenge. Living on the top floor does have its downsides. Patrick locks the door behind them once they’re inside, making sure to drop the keys in the bowl this time. David moves past him toward the bedroom, hand on the back of the couch to steady himself as he walks. Patrick follows behind in case he decides to simply faceplant on the bed, but he manages to crouch down in front of the drawer they’ve designated as his, digging through for some sleepwear.</p><p>As he staggers back to his feet, David catches a glimpse of himself in the standing mirror and frowns. “I look like I’m dressed as a serial killer for Halloween.”</p><p>“That’s a bit harsh,” Patrick says, but he’s smiling as he comes up behind David and wraps his arms around his waist. “Though I agree, it’s an odd look for you.”</p><p>“You’re saying you don’t like it?” If David were sober it would come out as a joke or a tease, but alcohol softens the words into something more vulnerable.</p><p>Patrick pushes himself up on his toes to hook his chin over David’s shoulder. “I just prefer you as you, that’s all.”</p><p>“Even with all...this?” He loosely gestures at himself in the mirror.</p><p>Patrick pulls him a little closer. “I proposed to all this, didn’t I?”</p><p>David closes his eyes. “Okay, you can’t just say these things to me.”</p><p>“I did, though.” Patrick lays a kiss on his shoulder. “So you’re just going to have to live with it.”</p><p>David hides a smile, turning his face towards Patrick’s. “I guess that’s acceptable.”</p><p>“Good.” Patrick kisses him, slow and achingly soft. “Why don’t you get changed and come to bed?”</p><p>David nods, though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to disentangle himself from Patrick’s arms. That’s okay, Patrick thinks. He gets to spend the night with David Rose in his arms either way; the bed will keep for a few minutes more.</p>
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